


A week

by edourado



Series: Hell's Kitchen Chronicles [117]
Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF, kastle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 07:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16806055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edourado/pseuds/edourado
Summary: Four days after day one of them





	A week

**Author's Note:**

> These are part of the little bunch that I posted on Tumblr, but failed to post here. Here it is now.

The water is warm against her skin, but it’s his presence that makes her cheeks tinge red.

Karen doesn’t really remember when was the last time she took a long bath, but this was the only way she could see herself doing it again. On a Saturday morning, with him sitting on the floor, his back touching the porcelain, her hand over his shoulder, nails dragging lines over his chest and collarbone while he makes a grocery list.

She had been rather popular on Friday, for some reason. Ellison had invited her over for another dinner. Foggy had suggested going out for drinks, Matt said it would be a good idea.

She politely declined dinner. Sweetly, she turned down the drinking night with the boys. Opted out of the bar crawl plans from the Bulletin group text. Quietly ignored the email for the opening of some rooftop bar. Said a satisfying no to the date the architect that lived across the hall charmingly suggested when she bumped into him at the deli across the street.

The world would have to make do without her that Friday night. Her plans involved locking the door, two bottles of wine and the ingredients for pasta carbonara in her shopping bag.

And him.

Her first glass was half empty when he arrived, and a wave of shivers made her arch her back into nothing after she buzzed him in, anticipation running through her, deliciously.

Karen walked to the door before he knocked, and opened it wide, leaning against the frame, swirling the wine inside the glass.

It had happened that Monday. He was about to leave, and she didn’t want him to, but was running out of excuses to make him stay.

“Please be careful”, she had pleaded, standing on this very spot, watching him make his way to the stairs. He disappeared for a few seconds before she heard his boots climbing back up and there he was again, striding to her decisively, catching her face in both his hands and kissing her soul out of her body. She welcomed him back in and didn’t let him leave again.

The sun rose on Tuesday and she had barely slept a wink, rolling around with him in bed, kissing her way over his body, working hard on convincing him she wanted this, she wanted this, she wanted this, so much it almost hurt her, she wanted him so much she could barely think.

She left work before the sun even set on Wednesday, something she haven’t done in months. There was a single white rose sitting on her desk, from him, and she had forgotten it on her haste to leave so she could see him again.

He dropped her at work on Thursday, and she never wanted to stop kissing him. He promised to pick her up for lunch, and after lunch he promised to be there when she was ready to leave. She had to make him wait until after seven, but he was there when she walked out, opening the passenger door of her own car for her. But he couldn’t stay with her for the night, and she had to settle for something quick and intense, he was gone before midnight, promising he would be back, leaving kisses and the memory of him behind.

Friday had lagged, the day dragged on and she felt both giddy and anxious, light as a feather at the same time her skin buzzed with impatience, counting the minutes until she could see him again.

He called around four, his voice low and mellow on the other side, and she tried her best not to melt in her chair.

He wanted to see her, he needed to see her, when could he see her, and Karen’s toes curled inside her shoes, her teeth chewing on the inside of her cheek.

She said she wanted to cook him dinner, and he promised to take care of breakfast.

“For the whole weekend?” She had asked, spying outside her door, not wanting anyone to intrude on this moment, her moment with him.

The chuckle he let out had made her smile like an idiot, and she tried to stop it, tried to act normal, but alas.

“For as long as you want”, was his reply.

The seconds stretched while she waited for him to climb the stairs to her, and Karen thought she saw movement behind the architect’s door across the hall, but then there he was, a figure in black, backpack on his shoulder and a sweet curve of lips for a smile on his face.

Frank crowded her in the best way possible, swaggering to her, taking his time, a charming half smile the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes and his forehead touched hers, her back pressed against the door frame, his lips sliding on her face while her free hand made its way up his chest.

He breathed against her skin, and she angled her face towards his, wishing she had put that wine glass down before opening the door, humming against his skin, the hand she had on him closing around the collar of his shirt, and he bent his knees slightly to put his arms around her waist, and suddenly her feet were not touching the floor anymore.

Frank sighed inside her hair, holding her tight to him. She fit inside his arms as if she had been molded to him. The hand on the back of her neck and his breathing against her skin nearly made her cry.

“You’re a miracle.”


End file.
